


there's no place like hell

by kissandtell



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Cannibalism, Emetophobia, Gang Rape, Gore, Guro, M/M, Sadism, Tooth Gore, Torture, eye gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-03-31 21:39:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3993799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissandtell/pseuds/kissandtell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>k i l l  m e<br/>KILL ME</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's no place like hell

He took my fucking fingers.

I'm never getting out of here.

I was underneath some cot, stained with blood and bile and shit. The pain from my hands had lessened to a dull ache-burn as I weakly curled and flexed what was left of my tendons. This couldn't be good, oh god, if I hadn't been infected with something before, I sure as hell would be now...

There was no escape. I was going to die here. _Fuck_...

I didn't know what to do. He was somewhere in the other room, rambling to himself in that godforsaken tone of his... I couldn't stay here forever, he would find me, and then what? I was tired, so tired of running. How long had I been in here? An hour? Probably more, it felt like weeks by the pure layer of grime on every plane of my body. I didn't care anymore. Fuck my job. Fuck humanity. Fuck whatever Father Martin is trying to get me to believe. But most of all, fuck goddamn Richard Trager and his bone shears.

By now, I would consider myself lucky to be dead. I needed to find a way to right this wrong.

I would've liked to hang myself, but I knew there was no way I'd be able to make myself any kind of noose, even a rudimentary one. I didn't want to bleed out somewhere on the floor - that could take hours.

Maybe death by variant would be the easiest way to go here.

From what I'd seen, they'd at least make it quick.

I drew myself out from under the bed, biting my lip hard as my hands stung in protest. I moved quickly, tugging off my jacket. The windows here were barred, too closely for my body to fit through but just enough for my fist. I covered the skin of my left hand with fabric, drew back and _punched_ \- my arm shook with the impact but the glass shattered, bringing rainwater into the room. I was two stories up, but this was an outward facing window. I brushed glass shards out of my jacket and wrapped the camera, padding it as tightly as I could before extending it and letting it fall.

At least this way, maybe someone would find it.

Trager must've heard the crash - his voice was getting louder again. My heart throbbed in my chest, adrenaline was telling me to run, _run,_ but I couldn't anymore. I didn't want to have to suffer anymore. I was praying for one quick blow to my chest and an end to it all.

He stopped as he turned the corner and I came into his line of sight. I swear to god he was _smiling,_ stepping into the room slowly. _"Buddy..."_  


God, god, I wanted to run, I wanted to get the fuck out of this place but there was only one escape, only one way out, I just had to get it over with. Fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck _fuck._..

"I knew we'd be able to work something out," he appealed, sounding just _too pleased_ with himself. "I'm a reasonable guy, I knew you'd be able to see it my way. Come on, we can... _solve_ some _problems."_  


No, no, he wasn't mad anymore... what the fuck was he going to do now? I fell to a crouch, and there was still a bed between us. Could I make it if I ran?

I _couldn't_. Even if I could, I wouldn't, I'd made up my mind. I cringed as he came at me suddenly with more speed than I'd thought possible, wrapping those grotesque fingers around my wrist and pulling me up. "Come on, _bud_ dy." He sounded like a mother, scolding an unruly child. "Once you make a deal you can't back out on it again, right? _Right_?"

I gulped and tried to calm my breathing. He kept looking at me like he was waiting for a response. Adrenaline shook me hard enough to make walking a struggle - my legs were juiced, they wanted to flee the fuck away from here but he wasn't mad anymore, _why wasn't he mad -_  


I swung again without even thinking about it.

My fist came roughly into contact with his jaw and I managed to break free from his grip, unable to control the urge to dart back, which I did. I must've hit him pretty hard as he himself stumbled, his free hand going to his mouth where I'd struck him. I could feel my knuckles already starting to bruise. I couldn't help a tiny sound of horror from slipping through my lips as I saw that my strike had askewed his surgical mask, reveal horribly mutilated lips doing nothing to cover teeth.

But my punch had done the trick. He swung back at me with the scissors, hitting me bluntly in the arm and sending me now sprawling. While I was down, he hit me again, and my ears were ringing now. Just a little more, then I could finally be at peace...

I wasn't dead. I regained feeling after a second and found myself being dragged along the floor by my arms, bloodstains soaking into me. I looked up to find Trager pulling me along, humming dissociatively to himself. I didn't struggle at first, my nose ached where I'd been hit, I was still dizzy...

He deposited me on the filthy floor of the room we'd started in - his operation room. He slammed the door and I sat up enough to see him lock the door this time before turning back to me. "Sorry about all this delay, things are usually a little more prompt but hey, what can you do." He chuckled, dusting off his hands. "And look, since you're such a _model specimen_ I'm gonna give you a little treat, huh? How does that sound?"

I didn't do anything as he came back over to me, brandishing a coarse-looking rope. I couldn't help pulling back a little when he grabbed my hand, but he just squeezed harder and forced my arms up above my head again, binding my wrists to the wall. "I know you're gonna struggle, buddy, but you have to understand what the goal is here. Come on. Have a little _faith_."

My stomach knotted as he examined his tools again, and they all looked too small to be lethal. Fuck, maybe I'd made the wrong choice. I started wriggling, seeing if I could slip my wrists out of the ties. He clucked his tongue and selected a short blade, but it wasn't as dull as the others. When he spoke again, his voice was low, "I mean, we _all_ have to suffer a little..."

He turned me onto my side, wrenching my shoulders the wrong way. I cried out and lifted myself a little, bearing the weight with my arms, but I wouldn't be able to hold that for long. I didn't like what I was hearing as he continued to tease: "We're just gonna make sure you don't try to back out on me again."

Oh fuck.

I screamed and writhed as I felt the blade on me, on the back of my knee, separating fabric then skin then tendons. He pressed his own weight down onto me to keep me from moving too much, bracing my legs under his knee. I could feel fluid rushing out of my leg and suddenly everything below my knee on that side was numb.

I didn't have a choice now, I... I _couldn't_ run away.

He really dug deep, I must say. I was biting hard into my shoulder through my shirt, trying to distract myself from the pain. Blood was starting to blossom around my teeth, I could now see, and I was trying to focus on that as he repeated his operation on the second side. While his attention was diverted, I tried to flex my left foot, where he'd started.

But there was nothing. Tendons pulling on nothing, snapped up too tight, curling in on themselves, sending more pain up my spine and into my brain, shaking me.

I was _terrified_.

Trager chuckled low and rolled me onto my back again, gruesome lips pulled up on one side in a mockery of a smile. "There you go. Isn't that nice? Now you and me are gonna learn some new things together, right buddy?"

... right.

Blood was pooling behind me, wetting and darkening the fabric of my jeans. He came back to me, now with a thicker blade again. He knelt next to me, resting one arm on his knee and talking to me amiably. I couldn't comprehend his words anymore; it was all just a fuzzy mantra of _buddy, buddy, buddy,_ too fucking rich for me. He was fumbling to undo my shirt, unable to comprehend the buttons, which wasn't a problem for long as he ripped open the front, fabric straining.

He started the incision at the bottom of my ribcage. It was searing, more so than I imagined, having my skin peeled up. His knife kept scraping my bones, like nails on chalkboard, gritting inside me, sending vibrations straight to my inner ear. I was bleeding bad, but it took a long time to die from blood loss. I needed to end this, fucking Christ...

I thrusted my torso at the blade, trying to get it to slip between ribs, maybe puncture my heart, if I was lucky. Trager made a soft noise of annoyance and frowned at me, and I frowned right back at him before hocking and spitting right in his face.

  
_Fuck_ you, old man.

He drew back, wiping his cheek where I'd hit him. "Oh my fucking god," he spoke with disbelief. "This is _highly_ unprofessional, you know? I don't want to have to let you go, buddy! You know that?" Everything he said didn't matter - now, he just ripped off the flap of skin, sending my head back between my arms with a new stab of pain.

"Woooow - " he suddenly sounded ecstatic. "Take a look at _this_. I think we made a breakthrough here, I really do!" I was feeling dizzy, losing whatever feeling I had left in my hands. I tried to concentrate on the filthy tile wall behind me as I pressed my forehead to it, trying to feel the cold. But his tone changed again and he grabbed a fistful of my hair, forcing my neck forward at the worst angle. "Hey - if I tell you to look, you better fucking look!"

A moan of pure terror fell from my lips as I saw the wide open wound on my front. All the skin was gone, torn away from the bottom left part of my ribcage, leaving only a bloody mess of muscles and ribs. You could see red on red, what I came to the conclusion was my lungs, rising and falling just below the bone. I gagged, but there was nothing left to come out - my dinner lay a little ways away on the floor already - and I just choked on saliva and bile, spilling out my mouth and nose and down my chin.

Trager took one of those macabre fingers and prodded at my intercostal muscles, causing the air to be knocked out of me and leaving me gasping. "Hmm," he said very thoughtfully. He was fucking _fascinated_ at watching me squirm like a worm poked with a stick, this was his medical research. I was the experiment now. Jesus fuck...

"So, I'm sure I'll be able to get something good for this," he held up my skin, now unattached from my body, flabby and pink on one side, slimy and red on the other. I felt like I was going to pass out. I'd never been that squeamish, but that was _my_ skin, and he was holding it in his hand like a goddamn swatch of fabric. I dry-heaved again and let my head fall back limp.

"Y'know, you're pretty quiet," he placed the meat on his little goddamn trolly, acting like nothing had even happened. "And I must say it would be a shame to fuck up a pretty little mouth like yours, but hey. If you aren't using it, why even bother, right?"

I couldn't comprehend what he was saying. He was going to... take off my mouth? I was losing my grip on things, of _course_ that didn't make sense. Knowing him, he was probably going to try to sew it shut or fasten some skin over it or something. I pulled back more, trying to sit up, leaving my abs screaming and squirting blood. I didn't want to talk, I didn't want to give any of them that satisfaction. But I didn't want my mouth sewn shut. I couldn't die from that.

"No nononononono," I breathlessly whispered as he was coming back with pliers now and I dragged heavy legs up into a seated position. "Please, I - "

"Hey," his voice deepened and I gulped. " _Now_ we're getting somewhere! Come on, buddy, talk to me. Where do you see yourself in a year?"

What the fuck, he was out of his goddamn mind! Stupid, stupid, I made up my mind not to encourage these psychopaths when I crawled in the first window and I should've stuck to that. He was bent down again, slipping a thumb into the corner of my mouth, forcing it open. I leaned away, breathing harder again as he let out a low whistle. "Now _this_ is a product we should be endorsing!"

Before I could do anything, those filthy fucking pliers were in my mouth and I screamed as my gums were torn apart. It was a struggle but I managed to keep my tongue away from the tool, but the second he pulled out I knew something was wrong. Blood filled my mouth, copper stronger than before. My tongue leapt forward, prodding at the empty space at the bottom front of my mouth, raw open tissue.

He rolled three tiny white teeth in his hands.

I gurgled on my own blood as it spilled down my chin and onto my front. "And hey, since earlier worked out so nicely," he had his shears again, god, no, I didn't want to hear his words so I buried my filthy face in my shoulder, refusing to look and muffling my screams as I felt the rest of the fingers on one hand, I wasn't sure which, torn from every joint haphazardly. Fuck, this isn't what I wanted, why could I just die?

I was dizzy from the pain, lightheaded, exhausted. Maybe I would pass out and bleed to death. Trager left, I think, talking again but I couldn't hear anything. My ears were wringing. I didn't want to just lie here - he'd be back, and there'd be more. My front was still wide open, muscles decaying in the air. I needed a way out, somehow. There wasn't a way out. There had to be a way out.

I turned my attention back to my hands - one red hot and the other numb from circulation loss. The ropes were cutting in, chafing away the skin until it was raw. If I was going anywhere, I needed the binds broken. I was out of ideas, I was getting frantic: I pulled harder, aiming right at the wrist of my now fingerless hand - the left one, which had been my dominant hand. I hit it back into the wall with all the strength I had, I needed to get out -

With a sickening crack, I broke my own wrist.

I let out a mangled yell from the pain but was able to slip the now-limp appendage out of the ropes, then easily able to shake it off my remaining right hand. After rolling my aching shoulders, I pushed myself upright, legs like lead. Now I was able to look at my left hand - a strangled cry got caught in my throat as I saw each knuckle left, and a bit of the first phalanges on my second and middle finger. The skin was completely gone, nothing but fatty flesh and sinew. One of Trager's carts was in here, and on the bottom shelf there was a spool of wire-like thread and a thick needle.

I needed to do _something_.

He had a selection of limbs kept in the corner - all bled out, but they couldn't be more than a few days old. My whole body ached as I dragged myself along the floor: my left hand was on fire, infection would set in too fast, I needed something to cover the open tendons. Using my left elbow to hold it in place and my right hand to tear, I ripped off a thick piece of cold flesh. It was probably already infected with something in this godforsaken place, but I needed to cover my wounds before they got worse. The new skin was enough to stretch over the torn area. and I grabbed the needle and thread in my one hand.

This was going to be a struggle.

Still, I was able to work quickly - the hardest part was tying a knot at the end of the surgical string, I had to use my remaining teeth to hold it tight enough to tie, and the sewing experience wasn't exactly pleasant. Each prick reminded me what I was doing, the stitches pulling this new skin tight over my new edition, a useless paw, aching and red with only my thumb still remaining.

I was stunned that I'd gotten the stitches done. They were stretched and red and too sore, but at least I wasn't loosing as much blood as I had before.

Still, my entire goddamn front was gaping open. Honestly it had become a dull numb in the last little while, although every movement send off nerves exposed to the open air. I knew I wouldn't have enough material to stitch this up, so I slid off what remained of my shirt and pulled it over the hand sized missing portion of my chest. It stung like a motherfucker at first contact and the white cotton turned pink then red in some places. I ended up with my shirt on backwards, since I had no other way of fastening it down, with both arms messily through the opposite sleeve.

Now how the fuck was I going to get out of here?

I needed a wheelchair or something if I was going to be able to move - my legs were shot, about all I could do was drag myself along, trying to keep my open torso off the filthy floor. I managed to army crawl out of the room (getting to the doorknob was a struggle, but I'd always been determined) and out of the room, away from Trager's little torture shack. Maybe if he found me out here, he'd kill me outright. If only...

I was becoming more and more exhausted with each yard I crawled; an obvious red smear following me wherever I went. My arms were getting tired, so tired, but I didn't want to stop.

_I had to stop._

It was frightening - I didn't even realize that I'd passed out until I was waking up again. The fatigue must've got to me, the insufficient amount of blood had given up. So I'd been out of it for a little while (or a long while, I had no way of knowing) and the next thing I was aware of, I was being tossed down a chute. I came to yelling, pain snapping me back into consciousness and I fell for a second before hitting the ground harder than I would've liked. I landed on my shoulder with a sickening crunch and I hit my head hard enough to make my vision go foggy. My body was crumpled uselessly on top of me, I had no idea where I was...

I had some time to think, crushed in the little shape. It was a rectangular metal tube, and I could see light above me from where I'd fallen. My neck was starting to ache, but I was coming to the conclusion that I was going to be here for a while...

That was until a second later something next to me opened up and I tumbled out.

I moaned uncontrollably as I hit the floor, going flat on my back. My injuries were starting to ache now: my broken wrist was bruised bright purple, the white shirt covering my wound was stuck in with pus and every movement earned too much protest, my chin was covered my dried blood and every joint hurt.

I suddenly became aware of other presences in the room as I opened my eyes to the light above me, too bright and buzzing. At this point, I couldn't focus my eyes; all I knew were three voices floating around the room. "I can't believe it, we - we got a live one!"

"Mm, it's in decent shape too. Still _wiggling_. Heh heh..."

"Look, you stupid cunts, this is the little bitch that made us chase him earlier!"

"Wait - it's right, it's right!"

"Now we can - make him play flesh in spades f - for making us chase him!"

My vision started to focus about me to three variants, standing over me, looking down at me like the prey I knew I was. I gulped trying to sit up but finding my arms too weak and collapsing again.

The third who spoke had the deepest voice and descended on me first, "We're gonna have to thank Trager for this one..."

I was shaking, muscles contracting uncontrollably. The one who was speaking was the biggest variant in the room - muscular but not that disformed. He was thick, _solid_ : I wouldn't have been able to take him even in my regular condition. He grinned down at me with hard eyes, dark eyebrows and sharp cheekbones. He knelt next to me, squishing my lips between his fingers. "X marks the spot, right, slut?"

"Yes!" I could see the other variant behind him, the skin of his face folded over to create an uncomfortably smooth finish, leaving him with one cyclops eye, off-centre in the middle of his face. "Pussy's good, yes!"

The last variant seemed meekest: he hung back a little, but his eyes were still manic behind hideous growths over his cheeks and forehead, with a mouth horribly obscured. The crators on his face shifted with each stuttered word: "We have to hurry, Walker'll - "

"We don't take long," Cheekbones was straightening up again, adjusting the waistband of his baggy patient jumpsuit. "Undress him." The absolute terror must've been apparent on my face by his newest little sneer over his lips. No one moved at first and he smacked Pothole. "That means, now, little bitch!"

Somehow, adrenaline found a way into my bloodstream again and I was up on my elbows, trying to struggle backwards. Pothole, however, had the upper hand, tearing off my pants as Cheekbones stepped down hard on my broken wrist, eliciting a tired moan from me.

"Please don't hurt me anymore - " I breathlessly begged, curling in on myself.

"Honey," Cheekbones teased, eyebrows pitching up as he bent down to meet my eyes. "Hush."

I felt like throwing up. One-Eye was standing on one side of me, shamelessly rubbing the lump of his crotch, I was harshly flipped over by Pothole and I craned my neck back just enough to see Cheekbones reaching into the front of his pants.

Oh, for the love of god, I knew what was coming, and I just wished to be dead. This hadn't been what I wanted, no, fuck, I wanted to die, why didn't they kill me -

"Hey, don't - don't worry, prettyboy," Pothole spat, those horrible tumors grotesquely moving. "You're gonna _like_ this."

I shreiked with an energy I didn't know I possessed as something hot and meaty pressed towards me from behind. Just like that, I was sobbing, a pair of strong hands pressing my bloody torso down into the floor while my jeans and underwear were ripped down under my ass and something thick breached me.

And then I was screaming, biting into my arm to staunch the pain of hot skin on skin. Cheekbones was grunted hard from behind me, thrusting haphazardly at my ass, and he was thick and rock hard already... Even though I couldn't see them anymore (no, my face was buried between my biceps, trying to staunch the pain) but I knew they were watching. One-Eye was making little panicked noises and declaring: "I's next, I's next!"

"He's nice and tight..." Cheekbones grunted, each thrust like a knife stabbing me from behind. "And I like it when they can react..."

I couldn't conceal a weak sob at this last statement. I wanted to die, but not like this... I'd already been humiliated beyond reason and now I had a dick up my ass. If this didn't get me a promotion. I don't know what will.

For a second, I thought I was passing out again - it was better that way, at least I didn't need to feel the pain - but Cheekbones must've noticed me going limp because he yelled something I couldn't understand and Pothole grabbed a fistful of my hair, wrenching my head up and slapping my face hard enough for the gap in my teeth to split my lip open again. From instinct, my right hand leapt to my mouth as the copper started to flow again, but the variant before me wanted all the attention to himself.

"Hey, you know what would - look funny?" his speech was broken, lips pulled back over yellowing teeth. I let out a whimper as Cheekbones struck his deepest yet, rubbing my prostate just enough to make my mouth dry. Pothole must've taken this as a response as he stroked his cancerous thumb over my swollen lips. "You suckin' my dick with no teeth."

"Yes! Yes!" One-Eye cheered from the side, jumping up and down beside me. "Fuck its pretty mouth, pussy!"

And Pothole's fingers were in my mouth - prying at the gap where the teeth I'd had removed were. I sobbed and bit down as hard as I could with what remained, finding the bone of his finger between my incisors. He shreiked and tried to pull out of my mouth but I bit down even harder, feeling hardness crack finally.

_Like biting down on a carrot._

That thought was too much for me. That and the feeling of his pointer finger coming undone and falling loose, tendons and all, onto my tongue. I was pushed over the edge, gagging and vomiting up mucus, blood and whatever remained of the crushed digit. My gag reflex sent my body spamsing, tears rolling out of my eyes and bile stinging my throat and dripping out my nose. At the same time, Cheekbones rammed my ass again, from a new angle before pulling out to see what Pothole was whining about.

"Bitch, you better stop your motherfucking whining, right now," he spat angrily. "This fucking place... my head was just in, and you two had to go and - "

"He bit - me!" Pothole breathlessly wheezed, cradling his bleeding hand in his other. I took this moment of distraction to wipe my chin and start pulling myself away again - my left hand was hurting more and more and my right was tired, so tired... where was I going to go, the door was closed, there was no escape; the fabric that was healing into my front was getting ripped out again, bringing yellow pus to the surface. "He'd bite me off if I - tried to fuck his mouth - "

Cheekbones was looking back at me, more furious than before, if possible. But when he saw me struggling to escape, his anger slowed and that goddamn smirk was back on his face. "That stupid piece of shit." And then, there was a glint of silver in his hand - a blade! Could this be the way out?

I looked up at him with a wide mouth, dripping blood and saliva. He knelt next to me, wiping the mess of my face. "Stop drooling, you're embarrasing yourself." He lowered the knife and without any warning, cutting into my gums, prying out the rest of my bottom teeth. I screamed, trying to bite down, but every time I did, the knife just cut farther into my mouth. There was nothing I could do as he held down each of my arms with one of his knees, carving out every tooth I had and spilling them onto the floor. He snapped my jaw sharply and it hung limp, empty. I sobbed, bleeding too hard from my gums, fuck, fuck this couldn't be happening, my teeth were gone.

When he moved back to admire his handywork, I reached up with my filthy right hand and felt the hollow gums, choking out a disgusting cry. They were ruining me, I was mutilated beyond recognition. Had they no mercy?

"I'm gonna take it's face now, maggots," Cheekbones barked at his subordinates, and I could feel another pair of hands at my ass - it must've been One-Eye, I could see Pothole, who now had his own dick out of his pants (and of course it was covered in growths like the rest of him...)

Cheekbones just kept playing with his manhood, fondling it casually in his hand as he tried to decide what to do next. Pothole put in his request while he could: "Can ya make him scream - again? I like when they - screams."

This must've been just the motivation Cheekbones was looking for. His expression darkened and the knife was out again as he hummed, "Glady..."

I didn't even see it coming.

But I sure did scream.

The blade came into contact at my eyebrow and slipped down into the pit where my eye lay. There was no resistance, the lid slipped away like paper, the sensors in the eye underneath were screaming and stinging and all I could see on that side was red, and then there was blood dripping down from higher up on my face, it was so hot in my mouth, on my tongue. I was yelling so loud I could hear them, and all the pain was so sharp I couldn't even feel two calloused fingers taking hold of the eye itself. The eye, what am I saying... it was _my_ eye...

Not for long.

I could feel again as the scalpel came down on the optic nerve: laboring for a moment, and I could still see red from that side.

And then nothing.

I wasn't even sure which eye it was; my remaining eye was fogged with intense pain from every possible angle; I was losing my grip on things.

All that I knew was that it was suddenly dark - after a moment, I came to the conclusion that a variant was blocking the light, standing over me. My head was held steady as pressure was applied to my now empty socket. Wow, I wonder what it could be?

My back was starting to hurt bad now, although it should've been the least of my worries. There was a variant at my front, a variant at my rear. Now where was the other one...

I shook my head. I was disassociating. I coughed, there was too much blood. My gums were sore. I was holding myself up with my broken wrist, that was hurting too. There was just so much going on, so many sensors all blaring at once, I couldn't separate - no, distinguish, I couldn't distinguish any one pain anymore.

Except I suddenly felt a sharp jab to my side.

I would've looked down if I could, but that wasn't really an option anymore. Somehow, this latest addition had struck me back to reality, the ringing in my ears was suddenly gone and the voices were loud as ever.

I came to the realization that I was still screaming - not as loud now, just a dull constant terrified moan. My whole body had spasmed at my newest stab and I was suddenly focusing on Cheekbones' pubes, right in front of my face. He had both hands knotted in my hair and was yelling, "That's the spirit!" as he thrusted towards my face.

"Yummy!" One-Eye's high voice called from behind me and I felt hands stretch my ass wide and a slimy muscle circled the tight ring. A sickening shudder shook my spine and I heaved, more blood rising from my stomach.

My attention got drawn back to where I now knew I'd been stabbed - my shirt had been ripped away and the raw muscles were sending off impulses again, but the freshest cut was on my side: blood was gushing, but fingers probed, testing the slick pocket of flesh before I felt something slip in and Pothole gave an ungodly disrupted moan.

I felt his balls flush to my side.

They were all fighting for my attention, One-Eye ripping open my ass (which already bled from Cheekbones' original assault), Pothole fucking my knife wound and Cheekbones doing something at my face. It was a battle they couldn't win.

"Why isn't he - cumming?" Pothole panted, trying to reach under for my flaccid dick. "That's my fa - vorite part."

"When we're done you can chop off the balls and drink what you want," Cheekbones snapped, and there was more pressure to where my eye had been.

One-Eye was back to making satisfied little noises, I could hear him bouncing up and down, rubbing his face along my crack, fastening both hands around my limp lower leg and pulling. It didn't take much, but it still hurt as the skin in the front ripped and with a twist, he popped the bone free. Whatever little blood was left in me rushed out that joint and I shook, falling even limper if possible.

And suddenly, without warning, Pothole orgasmed, shooting hot strings right into my side, burning and stinging me. I could feel his body spasm, his hands pulling at my side. He kept thrusting against me with hideous squelches, blood being the only lubricant he needed.

This sparked a chain reaction: One-Eye let out a manic laugh and I felt him insert his entire hand into my already ruined orifice. His grubby fingers set off every nerve inside of me, reaching and grabbing and pulling, and he must've gotten a hold of something because he pulled, and something inside me stretched, snapped and spilled, and fluid shit was leaking out around his arm, reeking and sending a stream of bloody tears down my cheek. This didn't stop him, he grabbed more and pulled, bringing the better part of my large intestine out to see the world.

At this feat, he came.

The pressure at the front of my skull was getting worse, Cheekbones had his hands on either side of my head so what was pushing at my eye socket couldn't have been a finger. He positioned himself, gritting his teeth and grinding out: "X marks the spot..." He pulled back, thrusted, breaking the red skin and entering my skull and


End file.
